


shall i dance?

by calcelmo



Category: Dune (1984), Dune - All Media Types, Dune Series - Frank Herbert
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Masochism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-28
Updated: 2020-05-28
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:21:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24426457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/calcelmo/pseuds/calcelmo
Summary: "Does it hurt?" Feyd asked, knowing full well that it was agony.
Relationships: Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen/Piter de Vries
Comments: 7
Kudos: 19





	shall i dance?

**Author's Note:**

> >I've read like 2 pages of this book and I'm in hell, but I had to get inb4 the Timothee Chalamet stans  
> >Imagine Sting having sex with the VA of Chucky. That's basically what you're reading, yet I'm still bizarrely proud of this one ;)
> 
> Please comment, I'm not above begging.

Feyd swallowed, willing the blood to stop rushing so in his ears. He licked his lips and tasted melange on them. 

“Strip for me,” he said. By definition of its content, it was a command, but he didn’t intend it as such. It was more of a plea. Fortunately Piter knew him inside, out, and acquiesced with only a little air of irritability. 

He was very lean, not so stocky and muscular as Feyd himself. His collarbones jutted out, as did his ribs and elbows and every other sharp edge. There were old scars and scabbing wounds, and Feyd could point out which ones he'd cut into the pale skin with his collection of blades. The glint in his whiteless blue eyes warned Feyd he mustn’t like what he saw too much. The Harkonnen heir could not afford a preoccupation with the male form. 

Still, Piter indulged him. He could waste his breath on a thousand complaints, but Feyd knew that if Piter harbored not even a drop of desire, then what they did- this coupling- wouldn’t be in the realms of possibility, no matter what sway a Harkonnen holds. 

Feyd grinned. “Can I blow you?” he asked.

Piter exhaled, exasperated beyond measure. “It’s not befitting of your station.”

Feyd tilted his head. “It’s befitting of yours,” he mused.

“I care not for this aimless flirtation,” Piter replied. “Do what you must. Let’s not extend this any more than what’s necessary to satisfy your virile young appetite.”

Feyd laughed. He pulled Piter close to kiss him again, eager but clumsy. Piter allowed it, and guided the kiss into something more refined. His hands found themselves tangled in locks of Feyd’s hair. It felt good. Some small part of him knew that soon enough he’d have to give this up forever. He didn’t want to. 

Feyd asked Piter to prepare himself while he undressed. At first, they hadn’t progressed much further than heavy petting, and the violence Piter encouraged with strange and intense fervor. But Feyd was persuasive and at this age his libido was going hay-wire.

_ One of your uncle’s whores wouldn’t know how to handle you,  _ Piter had said. Or that was how he rationalized it to himself.

They had been fucking for months now. Feyd did not tire of it. It was not the mere fact that he needed it, so deeply, to be touched and to touch another in this intimate, sexual way. No, sex could be found anywhere, on demand, but it was Piter he enjoyed so much. The way his breath stuttered on the first piercing of the knife. The way his eyes went glassy and his body pliant when blood ran down and bruises formed on the pale skin. 

He left his clothes in a messy pile on the floor, for which Piter threw him a pointed glare. Feyd only smirked back at him, and advanced until he had him backed down under the cage of his arms. They kissed again, while he removed the bottle of lubricant from Piter’s hands and applied it to his cock.  The head of it pressed against Piter’s entrance, and he pushed inside. They had only had intercourse in this position, partly because Feyd was wary of being penetrated, partly because Piter had the irrational belief that if Feyd displayed a minutiae of submissiveness, then he’d become weak and incapable of command.

"Does it hurt?" Feyd asked, knowing full well that it was agony. 

"Get on your back, you insufferable brat, and I'll show you how much it hurts," Piter seethed. Feyd knew it was the pain that made him so irritable. So he slowed down and ran his hands soothingly over Piter's pale, pockmarked skin, pressing indulgent kisses against his neck. 

The Mentat screwed his eyes shut, but he stopped his complaining. His breathing evened out, and slowly, Feyd felt his muscles relax. 

"Are you waiting for an engraved invitation?" Piter whispered, but he didn't summon the same venom. 

Feyd smiled. He propped himself back up again and let his cock slide up to the hilt inside of Piter. It was an exquisite pleasure. Part of him wanted Piter to enjoy it too but he knew there was no comparison to the feeling of the warm tightness clenching around him. 

He thrusted lightly at first, scraping his teeth against Piter’s throat before biting down hard enough to leave marks. The Mentat curled his fingers in the bedsheets, arching his spine. His teeth cut into his lip to stop himself from crying out. He was impatient, he never liked to drag this out. A shame for sure. 

Feyd never lasted long. Piter mocked him mercilessly for it.  _ That’s because it’s you,  _ the Harkonnen heir told him seriously. Piter went begrudgingly quiet, and Feyd did not need Bene Gesserit training to know he was secretly flattered. 

He spilled his release deep inside, panting against Piter’s mouth. There was no sensation like it, and he’d live in it forever if he could. The Mentat was quiet, and he even chanced to scratch light patterns on Feyd’s back.

“Won’t you let me take care of you now?” Feyd asked. 

“Your aimless, juvenile rutting fails to arouse me,” Piter drawled. His hands did not cease their comforting motions on against Feyd’s bare skin, but true enough, he didn’t have an erection. 

“Something troubles you,” Feyd concluded.

Piter didn’t deny it. 

“Your uncle has known about this since the start. He would have my head sooner if he thought I was defiling his precious heir. No, he sees it as a harmless quirk of yours. A childish attachment. Your reluctance to take concubines is shyness and fear your performance won’t be up to standard. It was familiarity that you sought in me.”

“No. I’m in love with you. I’d wed you if I could.”

“Don’t ever let me hear you say that again, Feyd. I think I might vomit.”

Feyd snorted, and even Piter’s sapho-reddened lips quirked into a smile. “All right. But please, tell me what’s wrong.”

“Your uncle has now deemed our relationship as not so harmless. He threatens to kill me if I should ever lay my hands on you again.”

“He always threatens to kill you.”

“And he means it every time. One day he will.”

“Not if I have anything to say about it.”

“You’re ever the gallant knight,” Piter deadpanned. “But save your concern for yourself. He worries you haven’t shown enough interest in women. If your ability and desire to continue the Harkonnen line is cast in doubt, he’ll denounce you as his heir. Our mutual arrangement here is not worth that.”

Feyd shrugged.

“It is not,” Piter repeated firmly. “I know what foolish thoughts go through your mind. Listen close, because you won’t hear me say it again. I am fond of you. I allow you to hurt me because I enjoy it. But we will not build any kind of life together. In fact I’m quite sure I’ll be but a footnote in yours.”

Feyd nodded slowly. The part of him that was still a petulant child- which was quite the worrying percentage- wanted to kick and scream about the unfairness of it all. The proud Harkonnen in him knew that nothing was worth giving up the na-Barony. 

“My uncle told you to tell me this,” he guessed.

“Yes,” Piter answered through gritted teeth, “And instead, we ended up in bed together. Again.”

That said more about Piter’s resolve than anything. He would miss this too, Feyd was sure of it. Alas, it had come to an end. And perhaps for the best. There were more important things at stake than appeasing his hormone-fuelled adolescent fantasies. Moreso if they kept on as he did, he’d like as not end up killing Piter with his inhuman, addictive tolerance for pain.

“Know this, then,” Feyd said. “Our time together has been the highlight of my days.”

Piter’s mouth twisted itself into a crooked smile. “Quite.”


End file.
